


My Heart Is Broken, My Wings Clipped

by ASweatyToothedMadman



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is pretty much a character study I did because I was sad and I relate to Neil, gay mentions to anderperry, it's his final scene, neil deserved better, neil pretty much dies okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASweatyToothedMadman/pseuds/ASweatyToothedMadman
Summary: Even with the promise of eventual redemption, there was still the years of dragging on under the foot of his father and the looming fact that he was indeed his puppet. A puppet whose strings had been cut, not with a clean slip but hastily done, slashing frantically until he had hung by a string. It was never enough though, the strings only seemed to repair and grow shorter.





	My Heart Is Broken, My Wings Clipped

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad and gay and I make really fuckin weird titles  
> Also this is lowkey written from personal experience so i hope it still has that Neil aspect

Blue light dripped in through the window like a steady stream, droplets hitting the wooden floor with a soft splash of color. Neil lie in his bed, eyes focused on the ceiling as his mind wandered. He could still hear the shouts that pounded his brain as though a hammer had been taken to his head. He was to straighten up or he was gone, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. What did his father know? Not all actors were gay. Though, in his case, he was. His father didn’t need to know that though. 

Thinking back on it all, it was easy to see the faults in his own logic; the forging of a letter which he never should have gotten and the blatant disobedience after being found out. But who was he then? His father’s slave? If he had given up, it would have all been for nothing. He was a puppet and the strings were suffocating. He shifted onto his side, deciding to inspect the window because all he could see on the ceiling was blood. His own, with his own hands and head lying close with a certain stillness that sent chills through his brain.

“Oh, god,” he murmured softly, pressing himself further into the bed as if it would swallow, oh, how he wished it would swallow him.   
Outside, snow was falling softly, catching in the blue streaks of light. Neil felt an urge to get up and touch it, to feel the coldness on his skin and see his breath in the air. To know what it felt like to be living, to be free. He had felt in that night on the stage with the lights beaming almost as bright as he was. Eyes locked, ears listening and they were really listening to every noise, every catch of his breath and howl of laughter. There really was nothing like acting. Neil chuckled softly, reminiscing in the recent memory before being pulled back to the reality of it all. Military school. He really had screwed it up. It seemed so simple in concept, a few years in school and then college plus, once he reached 18 he could go off and do as he pleased. Even with the promise of eventual redemption, there was still the years of dragging on under the foot of his father and the looming fact that he was indeed his puppet. A puppet whose strings had been cut, not with a clean slip but hastily done, slashing frantically until he had hung by a string. It was never enough though, the strings only seemed to repair and grow shorter.  
And then there was Todd, his Todd, the soft boy who smiled and meant it, who clutched Neil’s heart tightly against his own unwilling to let go. Who was Neil to argue, he didn’t want him to. Even with the inevitability of acting again, the thought of losing Todd seemed to hit him even harder. Neil hadn’t meant to get so close to the other boy. He had reached out, seeing as the shy boy could use a friend but weeks later he would find himself clinging to this boy for other reasons. If acting was his voice, Todd was his heart. Even as his voice rang throughout the empty auditorium at practice, it was late at night when he really unlocked the cage of his thoughts. Late nights in the dark, his body pressed up against Todd’s as he says both everything and nothing between curses and muffled groans. Was this love? Even if it was, there would never be anything more to it as they always separated hesitantly before morning. They were Romeo and Juliet in a way though it seemed as though the whole world was against them.

Neil sighed softly, giving up on sleep and sitting up slowly. His bones creaked, as feeling washed through them and his breath caught in his throat. As his ribs ached, he wondered how it felt to be able to go silent as though he were dead. An everlasting silence that would eventually be woken up by the faint buzz of a nerve or the shout of a father who either cared too much or too little. It was nothing different as he was radio silence to his father, his body just a tool. As his mind wandered on yet again, he could feel cold steel pressing up against his back. Keating didn’t understand, he couldn’t just wait and hope when there was no more light in his eyes or breath in his lungs. How could he stand this next year when the very thing that made him Neil was taken away. Who even was he? The child of his father, the dutiful son, Mr. Neil Perry the esteemed student, the soon to be Dr Perry. They were names, mere titles, and the very essence of himself seemed to not exist. As he had lived his whole life as a his father’s son, Neil Perry didn’t exist.

He stood then, the cold floorboards pressing into his feet with an urgence. Neil didn’t know how long he had been stuck in his own head but by the tensity in his joints, it was probably a few hours. He sighed softly, lifting his shirt off to reveal his boney torso. His ribs jut out as though his heart tried to break free yet was confined. Neil was slowly now, bringing himself to the window and opening it. The cold air hit him immediately but he didn’t mind the crisp bites on his flesh. Looking out at the cold night, he could feel the snow falling into a picture. It was himself yet, he seemed different, cold and pale. 

He backed up slowly, feeling his bed hit the back of his thighs with a scream for him to go and get it over with. This would be it, his very first conscious decision that his father couldn’t take away from him. As morbid as it was, he felt a sort of comfort in it. His feet carried him forward as his mind seemed to drift ahead. And eventually he was in the office. His breath caught in his throat, the scenes from earlier still fresh in his mind. He walked slowly to the desk with his plan set, opening the drawer with the small key and pulling out the shining metal of a revolver. The metal pressed into his skin, staring up at him as though it were laughing. He should be afraid, he should put it down and go to his room though his chest was cold and his heart frozen. With a finality, he turned and walked over to his father’s desk. Oh, he could just imagine the anger of his father finding his favorite chair soaked in his favorite son’s blood? Maybe he would love the chair a little less now that it would have been tainted. A chuckle threatens to burst free yet is caught in his throat as he sits down on the cold leather. It felt like the bars of a cage. The look his father had given him. He knew he had to do this. Closing his eyes tightly, he pulled the gun up to rest against his temple, his finger trembling as it rested on the trigger. He had never used a gun before much less held one and he wondered if he had gotten it right, if this would solve it. Should he have written a note? And to who? Certainly not his father, he would only scowl. Todd? Charlie? With his friends faces rushing through his mind, his throat goes dry. What would become of them?   
He heard a soft creak and fear pounced on him quickly and then there was a bang and it all went black as his unanswered questions emptied out on the floor.


End file.
